


A Promising Start

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-19
Updated: 2006-03-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:58:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8092171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Tucker and Reed come to terms with what happened on Shuttlepod One. Postep, 1.16 "Shuttlepod One." (03/23/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: In response to Wynterfraust's challenge on EntSTSlash to use the quote, 'Yeah, I slept with him. What can I say? I'm on a trampage.'  


* * *

'Yeah, I slept with him. What can I say? I'm on a trampage. Well, was. Sort of.' Commander Trip Tucker lifted his head and glanced across at the room's other occupant, Captain Jonathan Archer. Seeing the shocked expression on his friend's face Tucker let his head drop again, fixing his eyes on the glass in his hand. 'Don't look at me like that, Cap'n. I thought we were going to die on that shuttlecraft, we both did. First Enterprise destroyed. Then we find you're okay, but too far away; the two of us freezing, just waiting to suffocate.'

'So you fucked my armoury officer. Why? To make you feel better; to pass the time?' The words were calculated to hurt, and he could see from Tucker's reaction that they did.

He'd been surprised, not to mention worried, when, about seven years ago, he'd first caught his friend on what he'd termed a trampage. On the rebound from a failed relationship, Tucker had thrown himself into a series of loveless, and in some cases downright unfriendly, one-night-stands; almost as if he were punishing himself. It had happened twice more, that Archer knew about, but this time was different, and as far as Archer was concerned, completely unacceptable.

'This is Malcolm you're talking about, Trip, not some anonymous pick-up. What the hell were you thinking?'

'That we were gonna die. I told yer. An' he wanted it too.'

'He's got bruises, Trip, all over his arms and torso.'

'Godamit, Cap'n,' Tucker slammed his glass on the table in front of him and jumped to his feet. 'What're you accusin' me of here? D'ya think I jumped him, took him against his will? Is that what yer saying?'

Archer watched as his friend restlessly paced the captain's quarters. 'I'm saying, he's got bruises, Trip. That's all.'

'Yeah, well, things got a little rough—but it was what he wanted—what we both wanted. I had bruises too. I got Phlox to take care of them for me when we...when we got back. I guess I thought Malcolm would've too.'

'Phlox offered. Apparently Malcolm refused. Said he wanted to keep them as reminders of a mistake he'd made.'

'Shit!' Tucker snatched up his glass and downed the rest of the whiskey in it. The captain stood, took Tucker's empty glass from him and refilled it. 'Here,' he passed the glass back as Tucker reached him in his pacing. 'Sit down, Trip, you're making me dizzy.' Tucker sat and went back to staring at his drink. Archer continued in a more gentle tone, 'Why don't you tell me what really happened, Trip? Maybe I can help.'

'I doubt that. I doubt anybody can help.' He ended on what sounded suspiciously like a sob.

Archer sat quietly for a few moments, letting his friend compose himself, before saying, 'Just tell me, Trip, then we'll see what we can do.'

* * *

'Friends don't shoot each other!'

'D'you know, I'm not a doctor, but I'm pretty sure you use a lot more oxygen when you shout like that.' Reed was yelling at him, furious, their faces only centimetres apart.

'So what're you saying?' Tucker sank down to sit on the cold floor. 'That you'd rather have Enterprise find the two of us dead in here?'

'That's exactly what I'm saying,' Reed sat beside him. 'If there's one chance in a thousand that they saw our impulse drive explode, that they increased their speed, I'll take that chance. I've invested far too much time trying to figure you out, Mr. Tucker. I'm not about to accept that it was all for nothing.'

The two of them sat shivering for a while before Tucker spoke again.

'You been trying to figure me out?' He thought Reed nodded. It could have just been shivering, but he took it as a nod. 'Why? What's your interest?'

'You're my supervisor. I've always found it politic to be conversant with my supervisor's interests, likes and dislikes, et cetera.'

Tucker snorted. Christ, Malcolm, he thought, you're dead, your teeth are chattering like castanets, and you still sound like you've swallowed a friggin' thesaurus.

Reed turned to look at him, a sad, drunken expression on his face. 'Actually that's not true.' He shifted his position so that he faced Tucker properly. 'I tried to figure you out because I like you, Trip. May I call you Trip?' He went on without waiting for an answer. 'I like you. That's why I wouldn't let you kill yourself. But since we're both probably dead anyway, I might as well tell you.'

'You like me?' Tucker, like Reed, was slurring his words, a combination of the cold and the bottle of bourbon they'd consumed. He leaned forward slightly, closer to Reed.

'I like you.' Reed nodded vigorously, losing his balance and putting a hand on Tucker's shoulder to steady himself.

'I like you too, Malcolm.' Tucker leaned forward some more. Reed's face was very close, too close for him to focus on properly. He put a hand on Reed's shoulder, hoping that would help. It didn't make focusing any easier, but it did help his aim as he planted a freezing kiss on the other man's lips.

Reed closed his eyes and sighed.

'What's the matter?'

'Nothing. That was nice. Can we do it again, please?'

'You're very polite, yer know? I like that.'

'Does that mean we can do it again?'

By way of reply Tucker kissed him again. This time Reed responded, parting his lips and inviting Tucker into the warmth of his mouth.

They were grappling with each other, naked on the frost covered floor of an engineless shuttlepod, drifting through space towards an impossible rendezvous. The sudden, unexpected, heat of desire had fired their actions; but still their bodies were chilled to the bone. Sensation was blunted, it was difficult to feel.

'Harder. Hold me harder.'

'What?'

'I can't feel you. Hold me harder, tighter.'

They slid and slipped on the icy floor, banging knees and elbows, clinging grimly to each other, desperately trying to feel. Tucker wondered if they were making love, or just fucking. He wondered if it mattered.

Eventually, passion spent, they lay in a shivering tangle of limbs, their hot panted breaths freezing as they left their lips. They dragged their uniforms back on, the cold, damp cloth seeming almost warm against their frigid flesh.

Tucker leaned back against the bulkhead, too tired now to hold himself away from the cold metal. Reed huddled next to him, making his right side feel slightly less cold.

'Thank you, Trip,' the Englishman murmured.

'What for?'

'For, you know...that...making love to me, letting me make love to you.'

So, not just fucking, Tucker thought. Not for Malcolm anyway. And not for him either, he realised, surprised. Stiffly he turned his head to look at Reed. The slighter man was leaning heavily against him now, seemingly asleep; except it's not sleep, Tucker thought sadly. He wanted to comfort Reed, to show him he wasn't alone. Slowly he struggled to move his right arm, trying to put it round the other man's shoulders. Roused by the movement Reed looked up at him through frost-rimed eyelashes.

'I love you, Trip,' he said. 'Have for ages. Sorry I didn't tell you sooner.' His head fell against Tucker again as he lapsed into unconsciousness.

Tucker stopped his attempt to hold Reed, shocked by the declaration and confused. Unable in his weakened state to take it in properly, or to figure out his reaction to it. He was still looking at Reed, trying to come to terms with what he'd said, when the blackness claimed him too.

The lighting in sickbay was dim and apart from muted animal noises and the ever present hum of the engines, the place was quiet. Night, Tucker realised. He heard a movement and turned his head towards the neighbouring biobed. Reed was there, lying on his side, watching him. 'You're awake,' Reed smiled at him. Then dragging himself upright, he slipped off the bed and padded unsteadily across to Tucker. 'Welcome back,' he said, placing a hand on Tucker's shoulder.

'They got there in time.' It was a daft thing to say, he knew that, but he wasn't thinking straight. As he'd drifted from unconsciousness to sleep, to dozing, to awake, ever present at the back of his mind had been Malcolm's whispered statement that he loved him. A comfort? A pain? Either way, a reason to struggle back to life. Now Malcolm's smile, his touch, Malcolm's hand on his shoulder, overwhelmed his still dopey senses.

'Just in time, apparently. Only one or two hours to spare.' The smile tugged at the corner of Reed's lips as he looked down at Tucker, and some of the worry lines round his sea-grey eyes seemed to smooth away.

Tucker stared up at Reed. How lovely it would be to wake up to that smile, those eyes, every day; to the warmth of Malcolm's presence. Every day.

Every day? Hadn't every relationship he'd ever had started out just this way; in a happy glow of future promise? And hadn't all of them finished in the chill of unloving; of a friendship lost? He didn't really know what he wanted, but one thing he was sure of; he didn't want to lose Malcolm's friendship.

He let the uncertainty creep in and push his happy Malcolm-thoughts aside. Breaking eye contact, he turned his head away, and so didn't see his own uncertainty echoed in Malcolm's eyes. But he did miss the warmth, feel the cold, when Malcolm's hand left his shoulder.

'Malcolm.' He forced himself to turn back, to look up at the other man. 'About what happened...what you said.' He stopped as he met Malcolm's gaze, seeing the brief flash of hurt before the man's customary shutters fell into place. 'I don't...I mean...I'm not,' he stammered, unsure what it was he really wanted to say, unable to get coherent sentences to form.

'That's quite all right, Commander, you don't have to explain.' It was Lieutenant Reed speaking. Tucker could see that, hear it in the voice. He tried to speak, say something, anything, to get Malcolm back, but the lieutenant hadn't finished. 'It was just the circumstances, our situation. I quite understand. I'm sorry if anything I did or said makes you feel uncomfortable.' He paused as Tucker thought he heard a break in his voice, then hurried on. 'I won't mention it again, but I want you to know that I don't regret it. I'm sure we can both behave professionally towards each other on duty and off duty we...well we don't have to see each other, do we?' Having said his piece Reed turned away, climbed back onto his own biobed and lay with his back to Tucker.

'Malcolm,' he started. He tried to sit up but he was still very weak and his arms wouldn't support him. 'I didn't...that is...I don't know...Malcolm, please...' There was no response from the other bed. Flopping back against his pillows he shut his eyes, trying to work out what it was he wanted to say, and how to get his mouth to co-operate, to do more than stammer meaningless unhelpful phrases.

Shutting his eyes was a bad idea. He was still exhausted from their ordeal in the shuttlepod and his tired mind rebelled, refusing to think, choosing sleep instead. When he woke again Malcolm was gone, released from sickbay to his own quarters.

* * *

'And now he won't talk to me,' Tucker finished sadly.

'So, who else have you slept with?'

'What?' Tucker looked blankly at the captain, surprised by the apparent non-sequitur.

'You said you were on a trampage,' the captain explained kindly. 'My understanding is that that involves sleeping with more than one person. So, who else have you slept with? How many other hearts have you broken?'

Tucker glared at him, but said nothing.

'Well?' he pressed.

'No one,' Tucker snapped. 'None. There hasn't been anyone else. Only Malcolm, okay?'

'Why?'

Tucker was on his feet again. 'I thought you said you wanted to help. This ain't helping.'

'Why not?'

'What is this, twenty questions?' He started pacing again. 'Look, Cap'n, this ain't helping, and it ain't making me feel better. I think I'd better go.'

'Sit down, Commander.'

Tucker shot him a startled glance, recognising his captain's voice, rather than his friend's, and did as he was told.

'Fascinating as your personal problems are, Commander, my main concern is with the running of this ship. I can't have my chief engineer and my armoury officer refusing to speak to one another.' It was cruel and he knew it, but he needed to do something to drag Trip out of the pit of despair he was digging for himself.

Sitting practically at attention, Tucker swallowed before meeting his captain's eyes. 'I understand, sir,' he said. 'I'll sort it out. I'll talk to Mal...Lieutenant Reed. I'll...we'll...I'll do...something, sir.'

'Trip.' Archer relaxed his captain's persona and sat besides his friend. 'You need to sort this out, for your own sake as well as the ship's. I hate to see you like this. If you want Malcolm back as a friend, you're going to have to start by apologising to him. Go and see him. Tell him what you think, what you feel, whatever that is.'

'I don't know what I feel.'

'Then tell him that. He'll understand.'

Tucker looked at him doubtfully.

'Maybe he won't understand,' Archer conceded, 'but you have to start somewhere.' 'He won't talk to me. How can I talk to him when he won't talk to me?'

'Well, I could order him to,' Archer offered with a smile, 'but I doubt that would get proceedings off on the right foot.'

'No,' Tucker gave him a small smile back. 'No, Cap'n, I'll sort something out.'

* * *

'Tucker to Reed.'

'Reed here, Commander.'

Only three words, and he still manages to make them sound cold. Tucker took a deep breath to steady himself before replying.

'Lieutenant, meet me in my quarters in five minutes, would you. There's something I need to talk to you about.'

There was a moment's hesitation, then Reed said, 'I am rather busy, sir.' 'It wasn't a request, Lieutenant.'

'Understood, sir. Reed out.'

'Damn.' Tucker looked anxiously round his room, checking it presented the right image, 'whatever that is,' he muttered. He was wiping his sweaty hands down the legs of his uniform for the third time in as many minutes when the door chimed.

Tucker gave one last nervous glance round his quarters then stepped across to the door and pushed the button to open it. He didn't expected the interview to be easy, but his heart still fell when he saw the man waiting for admittance. Lieutenant Reed was standing at attention, his face an emotionless mask. Tucker waved him into the room. Reed stepped forward just far enough to allow the door to close behind him then stopped, still at attention, his eyes fixed on a point on the wall straight ahead.

'Relax, Malcolm, we're not in the captain's office.' There was no reaction from the other man. 'Fine, if that's...' Tucker stopped, controlling his irritation. 'At ease, Lieutenant,' he continued, thankful when Reed obeyed. 'This isn't official. I just want to talk to you.'

'With respect, sir,' Reed said, in a manner that was anything but respectful, 'if this isn't official, then I would like to leave.'

'Stay right where you are, Lieutenant.'

'Sir, I'm on duty. I have work that requires my attention.'

'I'm on duty too, Lieutenant. I'm your superior officer and I say you stay where you are. I ordered you here 'cause I've got stuff I need to say to you and this is the only way I can get you to listen. You can stand there and listen unofficially, or we can make this official; I'll turn on the recorders and the whole damn conversation can go in both our permanent records. Choice is yours, Lieutenant. Which do you want?' For a moment he thought Reed wasn't going to answer; that he was going to turn and walk out. But a lifetime of military conditioning won out.

'I would prefer to keep this conversation unofficial,' Reed said stiffly.

Tucker allowed himself a small sigh of relief. He didn't want this conversation on his permanent record either, but if that had been the price of getting Malcolm to listen, then he was prepared to pay it.

'Right.' Now it came to it Tucker found he wasn't sure how to begin. He started to pace, then stopped and made himself stand in front of Malcolm , where he was sure he could be seen. 'I guess you know it's about the shuttlepod; about what happened. And in sickbay, when I said...when you...when we...I...' Shit, he thought, more useless, meaningless babble. He swallowed and began again. 'I wanted to apologise.' He saw Reed shift slightly, pain flashing briefly in his eyes in spite of the impassive mask. Tucker hurried on. 'Not for what happened in the pod when we...I don't mean that. For upsettin' you. For whatever it was I did in sickbay that made you not speak to me. You're my friend, Malcolm. I didn't mean to do this, drive you away. I miss your friendship, I miss you, and I'm sorry.'

'Friends don't fuck each other.' Reed's voice was cold, his eyes still firmly fixed on the wall.

'That's not what you called it in the pod.' Semantics, Tucker thought. Friends don't make love to each other either. Reed said nothing.

'Look, Malcolm. I'm not doin' this very well. In sickbay you said you don't regret what happened. I just want to say, I don't regret it either. I'm confused, I don't know what I feel, what I felt, but I don't regret what happened.'

'What did happen?'

'What?'

'What did happen in the shuttlepod? What we did—what was that?' Reed finally looked at Tucker. 'Just drunken fucking because we were dying and alone?'

'No.' What else could he say, Tucker wondered, when 'yes' would mean Malcolm never speaking to him again. Malcolm was watching him, obviously waiting for more. 'I don't know what I feel, Malcolm, about what we did, or what you said. There's all these feelin's churned up inside a' me and I'm having trouble understandin' what they mean. When you said you loved me I was just so—shocked, I guess. I didn't know what to think. But I do know it wasn't just drunken fucking, what we did. I knew that then, and I know it now.' He saw the bleakness lift from Malcolm's expression and was surprised to feel his heart give a little flutter at that small success. 'I think maybe it was too much, too fast. It made sense at the time—felt right. But then when I woke up in sickbay an' you were there, an' we were rescued, I didn't know what I felt any more. And I panicked.'

'You panicked?' Reed's stance was a little more relaxed, his 'at ease' a little easier.

And his voice wasn't cold any more; he almost sounded like the old Malcolm, Tucker realised. It gave him confidence to go on.

'I didn't want to lose your friendship, Malcolm. All the relationships I've had, when they finished we weren't friends any more. I didn't want that to happen to us.'

'So you ended it before it began?'

'I suppose so, yeah. I wasn't thinking' straight, I know, but your friendship means so much to me, I jus' didn't want to risk losing it.'

'Trip, you're a fool.'

'What?' Tucker wasn't sure what Malcolm meant, wasn't sure if he even cared. Malcolm had called him Trip, and now Malcolm was crossing the room towards him and taking hold of his hands.

'I said you're a fool, Trip Tucker. I can't promise that our relationship, if we have one, will last for ever; but I can and do promise that I'll always be your friend.' He sighed. 'I thought you didn't want to be friends any more after—what happened, that that was what you were trying to say in sickbay. I suppose that makes me a fool too.'

'Two fools together then,' Tucker said, smiling tentatively at him. 'Sounds like a promising start.'


End file.
